


Amateur Hour

by phoenixofsin



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Synesthesia, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixofsin/pseuds/phoenixofsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUPER short fic where Rick walks in on Morty jacking off in his room and rick mercilessly teases him about EVERYTHING. Rick freaks out once he's alone and (accidentally?) gets himself off too...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally the first fic I wrote in years? First part is kind of silly, second part is more srs?

“AH shit, Morty for real, dawg?”  
Morty yelped as Rick’s intrusive scoff cut through him, scrambling in a frantic attempt to cover himself with his pillow. Face flushed red, he scowled up at this loud intruder, his lotion-smothered hand clinging tightly to his impromptu censor, knuckles white and heartbeat racing. The sweat that still beaded his brow quickly grew cold.

“Wwhat the hell Rick, ever hear of knocking huh??” his voice strained with embarrassment and frustration.

In his panic he had accidentally sent his phone flying, and now it sat, unfortunately screen-side up, in a pile of laundry at the foot of his bed. Rick stood in the doorway and melodramatically averted his eyes which instead latched on to the image still glowing from the phone’s screen.

“AHAH oh my god Morty are you–URP- is that seriously the kind of shit you’re into Morty” Rick slurred. Morty desperately clutched the pillow to his crotch as Rick pushed an accusing finger passed him, scooping up the phone from the foot of the bed before he could even begin to protest.

“UHM I’m a little occupied here and anyways fuck you rick g-give me back my phone!” Morty whined in a single, dizzied breath. He sat up and snatched at it fruitlessly, preoccupied with clumsily fumbling the pillow he was now struggling to keep over his increasingly uncomfortable erection.

Rick smirked as he studied the screen.  
“No way Morty, this is a _real_ travesty of the pornographic arts here. I’m legitimately disappointed with—URP- that you would even waste your data downloading this grade A _shit-show_.” chuckled Rick as he waved the phone in front of Morty’s face condescendingly.

His ears began to burn.  
“Jeez Rick, g-give it here huh?”  
Rick scoffed and tossed it aside with sudden indifference back onto the bed. Morty lunged for it with his free hand, quickly locking it and placing it face-down.

“Okay great, now go please” Morty sputtered, switching the pillow to his un-lotioned hand, wiping the now icy sweat off his head with his forearm.

“What ya got your hand there you sick little turd? Wha– what is that some kind of body lotion? You got– you’re using this?” Rick crossed to the bedside table, snatching up a bottle of lotion.

Morty whimpered and buried his head in his hands, pillow balanced in his lap.  
“Oh mannn”

Inspecting the bottle, Rick continued “Jesus, Morty, you can’t just–”

“Okay I get it, hholy crap” Morty interrupted, with strained agitation. He grabbed the nearest thing he could get his hand on and hurled it at Rick. Rick’s eyes widened as a bundled up sock bounced off the side of his face.

“Holy shhit, did you just throw your n-nasty old– crusty cum rag—URP- at my face you little creepo?”

“RrrrIICK!” Morty’s voice cracked. “Get o-out of my room!”

“Hahhah, yeahh” Rick put the lotion back down and raised his hands up in feigned defeat.  
“You shoulda seen the look on your dorky– your stupid ffucking face before you noticed I was there Morty ha HA!” Rick continued as he finally turned around and strolled out of the room. Morty threw the pillow at the back of Rick’s head as he left and slumped back with a sigh of relief after the door clicked shut.

Returning to his own room, Rick fell back into his cot and let out his own deep sigh. God, he can’t believe how he handled that one. His mind wandered.

_Stupid inexperienced little dip-ass… who even looks at porn on their phone…_  
He thought as he absent-mindedly rubbed his thigh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick regrets being a smart-ass maybe for the first time in his life. Alone with his thoughts, he finds he can't control everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick is a flustered sad drunk grandpa with synesthesia and a minor oral fixation lmao. Listened to "I Think I'm Evil" by Black Moth Super Rainbow a lot while writing, so yehhh enjoy your lowkey smut, ya sinners

Rick sat in his old cot, leaning his shoulder against the dark wall. After running a hand through his thoroughly disheveled hair, he threw back the last remaining contents of his flask. His buzzed head spun with imagined lights as his mind processed what had just happened.

_Amateur hour in there,_ he laughed to himself. Still, the lingering vision of Morty’s mortified face forced him to dwell on how he’d reacted to walking in on his grandson. He too had been surprised and frantic (if not necessarily embarrassed, like the boy was) but frantic in his own way…

_A more in-control way at least,_ he reassured himself weakly.  
But going over it all again, he felt uncomfortably sure that running his mouth like that had only made him sound foolish, and Rick did not enjoy feeling even a little bit like a fool.

For now though, his mouth was only dry and sticky. But when a clumsy attempt at draining another final sip from his flask produced only a few last drops, he resigned to just sit, thinking in the darkness, breathing through his teeth, grimacing.

_You shoulda seen the look on your dorky– your stupid ffucking face before you noticed I was there Morty ha HA!_ His own words still caught on his tongue and lingered like a trail of smoke all the way from the doorway of Morty’s bedroom, buzzing from his lips, and filling up the hallway. If Rick was being honest, there was something kind of cute about the look of concentration and intensity that stupid kid had in that split-second before the silent tension was broken by his startled mocking laughter. Only _Morty_ could make such a ridiculous expression while still seeming so truly candid and eager. Rick again rubbed his thigh absent-mindedly enjoying the smooth, flat splash of amber-yellow lazily tinting his mind, catching himself suddenly as his fingers moved hungrily higher and began to undo his pants.

_Jesus, he’s your grandson._ A little voice of reason rebuked him from somewhere deep in his mind. He was queasy.

Rick shook his dizzy head and busied his hands with rubbing his bloodshot eyes instead, causing hundreds of colors to shoot through his vision and melt away into the darkness. He wasn’t one for listening to that “reason” fucker, normally, but it definitely had a point this time. Still, it was the principle of the thing. Years spent drowning in the sea of booze Rick had made of his subconscious should have quieted that voice altogether. He again tried fruitlessly to get any remaining drops from his thoroughly empty flask before discarding it unceremoniously on to the ground. Light seeping in from the hallway through the crack in his door cast his shadow faintly behind him, and it swam in his peripheries. He probably had enough for the night anyways, he tried to lie to himself.

He closed his eyes and all he could see was Morty’s stupid face in all its rapt focus, sweat building on his brow, his bottom lip gently curled beneath his teeth. Rick’s mind swirled in sharp, melting sheets of vivid blue visions which dissolved away as he sank lower down the wall on his back, legs splayed out.

_Fuuck._  
It was too late to have any more second thoughts.  
His skilled hand and intoxicated imagination had completely run away with him well-before the voice had time to admonish him again, and he was too far gone to fight against the warm hues and bright planes of shapes and colors that splashed through his drunken thoughts at every fervent and disgusting stroke.

He imagined Morty’s shocked expression, not from across the room, but instead staring up at him from his own bed, an image far more fitting to his own shameless fantasies. Rick could feel the blood flowing through him faster and faster like tiny raindrops of indigo light passing through his skin in slow motion.

Morty’s first pitiful whimper of frustration and shame at being caught morphed into a gasp of ecstasy in his memories as they became warped and distorted by lights, liquor, and lust. The cot softly squeaked against his quickening, sickening motions. Pressure built up within him in a swelling translucent dome, like a bubble ready to pop.

_Sick fuck,_ his conscience hissed.  
He came, fast, hot, and heavy into his hand, splattering his thigh and staining his sheets as if he himself were the very same inexperienced teenager he had just finished utterly humiliating not but minutes ago.

“Sick f-fuck” he mumbled to himself in the dark.


End file.
